


Let Me Grieve

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Shot, Rain, Short but good, Water, grieving and grief, hnng water, i think i was thirsty when i wrote this or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dream is dead and Technoblade can’t grieve for him. Dream helps him because he doesn't want to see his beloved suffer.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Let Me Grieve

Techno looked out at the world through a painful haze. His tears were locked inside of him, they fogged his brain and clouded his thoughts, he couldn’t think clearly, he couldn’t do anything. His head was a nightmare and a mess. 

The light hit him like it came in through layers and layers of steel. He shot up in bed, the lamp beside him still on, although he didn’t notice it. If someone would have asked him, he could have read the time off the clock by his bed- but on his own he did not care, and when he looked at the mechanical numbers his eyes slid over them like sand through his fingers. 

It was a dry spell out and it had not rained for several days. He really wanted it to rain. He really wanted the rain. 

He could not grieve. His suffering was buried in the back of his head and it was poisoning him, slowly, creeping into every part of his body and rendering him useless. His organs felt rotted and molded. He feared if he pressed down on his chest it would cave in and his hand would pass through, breaking him open, the ribs crumbling away like they were nothing. 

He upturned his head and spoke into the night. “Let me grieve,” he did not know who he was asking. His fingers clutched his shirt and he felt the knuckles go white. “Let me grieve.” It was not a beg or a plea, it was a command. _You let me let go, you have too. I simply cannot take it anymore, I can’t do it. You have to. You have no choice._

He waited for something to happen but nothing did. He didn’t move. _If I can’t cry tonight, then this is the moment my life ends, even if my heart still beats and my lungs still heave._

Techno closed his eyes. The silence beat down on his temples and the room seemed to shrink and grow with nauseating depression. When he opened his eyes a pair was staring back at him. 

They were Dream’s, his dead lover. Dream pushed his face forward and let his lips collide with his. Techno felt something in the back of his head unlock, like a little click. In a second the lips were gone as suddenly as they had appeared. He opened his eyes and he was alone. 

_You may grieve,_ a voice echoed from the afterlife. 

Techno reached his hands up to his face and felt wetness. Water streamed from his eyes, slowly at first, then in an endless fountain. It poured and poured, it flooded his vision. Out with it went his thoughts that he had stuffed back in his brain, the ones that he couldn’t get out, they were pulled out by the tide of the ocean that drained from his face. He made a noise, choked and pained, and felt nothing but relief at making it. He did it again, and again, half-broken sobs and cries that fell out of his mouth like snow. He felt himself cry. 

He cried for minutes, or hours, or more. Sweet relief. 

He had no more tears to spare, there was simply no more water in his body. That’s when he heard the rain, pouring down from outside his house. He knew it was his tears that he couldn’t shed, all the ones he so desperately wanted to. It was Dream letting him cry longer. The water beat down on his house in a midsummer storm, harsh and steady, and he watched as the raindrops rolled down his window. 

Techno drank a glass of water, then another, then he turned off the light and laid his head on the pillow. He slept as the rains still poured. They must have stopped sometime while he was asleep because when he woke it was quiet. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into his empty room. His head was emptied. The rot in his chest had been peeled away, layer by layer, until only the healthy parts remained- at least mostly. The cruel bug that had been torturing him in the center of his brain had been pulled out and crushed to death, by his angry bare fists, by the deft fingers of his lover. 

“Thank you,” he said again, and closed his eyes and slept more.


End file.
